Chapter 553

"Yes, I am the Nine Heavenly Maiden." Murong Jia Jia lightly opened her vermilion lips, somewhat bewildered saying: "I have recalled it now, I am the Nine Heavenly Maiden of the Nine Heavens Sect, Tu Yu is my master from a past life. That dream I had was real!"

"That dream, is it the dream of mountains of corpses and seas of blood that you and I spoke of?" I suddenly recalled the dream Murong Jia Jia had spoken of that night.

Murong Jia Jia nodded, gave a bitter smile, and said: "Yes, I have recalled it; during this period I have been utterly confused. This dream has repeatedly reappeared in my mind. Only then did I realize that I am indeed the blood‑loving Nine Heavenly Maiden of that year."

"The Nine Heavenly Maiden is not a fusion of the Nine Yang Body and the Nine Yin Star; rather, the Nine Yin and Nine Yang unite as one, with the souls of two people dwelling together in a single body." Murong Jia Jia recalled, pointing to her own nose: "I am the Nine Heavenly Maiden soul that Tu Yu lost in defeat and was sealed by the Ancestral Heavenly Master Zhang Daoling; I am the Nine Yang soul, and as long as I unite with a Nine Yin body, I can regain my former identity as the Nine Heavenly Maiden."

"Murong, do you mean that Yuan Yang wants your soul in order to restore the Nine Heavenly Maiden?" Pangzi jumped up.

Murong Jia Jia remained silent, but her very gloom fully explained the matter. Analyzing thus, Yuan Yang fed Ling Bone Marrow to Yirong, refining her spirit‑body with resentment, aiming to make her lose her nature so that her body and soul would merge with Murong Jia Jia's. Yirong should be the Nine Yin. When Nine Yin and Nine Yang combine into one, they become the Nine Heavenly God. Therefore, Yuan Yang did not kill QingSongShu outright but caused them to fall unconscious; all this now makes sense.

It was merely to make me hesitate, personally delivering Murong Jia Jia into his hands. He was very cautious, fearing that Yuan Qiu might leak something from my mouth, and in a fit of anger he killed Murong Jia Jia.

"Go ahead and kill me; it's all because of me that you've ended up like this." Murong Jia Jia closed her eyes and extended her fair neck.

Pangzi and I stared at each other for a long while, but neither of us picked up the sword in our hands; we simply could not bring ourselves to strike.

"Clang, clang..." Little Fat, wearing a red dudou, toddled out of the room with small steps. His chubby cheeks were streaked with tears; he took my hand and called out "clang, clang," while his other hand also grasped Murong Jia Jia's hand.

"Little Fat, don't worry, I won't kill Sister Murong." I pulled Little Fat into my embrace. Raising my head, I shook my head at Murong Jia Jia and said: "This has nothing to do with you; it's all Yuan Yang's plot. You, like everyone else, are merely a victim." After a pause, I drew a deep breath and added with self‑mockery: "If it weren't for you, we probably wouldn't have survived to this point."

"Mm..." Murong Jia Jia merely gave me a slight nod.

I rose, stepped out the doorway, and gazed at the lonely night sky, yet my mind sank into contemplation. After so many years of ups and downs, I have learned to stay calm and think things through. All the cause‑and‑effect clues can now be explained. Yet there remains one strange point.

Yuan Yang's abilities reach the heavens; he could easily render QingSongShu and Seventh Lord unconscious, and naturally could effortlessly seize Murong Jia Jia's soul. So why does he go through all this useless effort, using Yirong and QingSongShu to restrain me, making me obediently hand over Murong Jia Jia?

All of this is superfluous; he hardly needs to expend such effort.

"Guilingshan..." As I was lost in thought, Pangzi muttered those three words, lifted his head, and asked me: "Hai Sheng, do you know what Guilingshan is?"

I didn't even think, I immediately replied: "I know, it's a barren mountain north of the city, never cultivated, still desolate to this day; within a radius of several tens of li there is not a single inhabited place."

After I answered, Pangzi propped his chin and shook his head decisively: "No, that desolation is only recent; before the Ming‑Qing transition, this was a burial ground for ten thousand people. In the Song dynasty it was an execution ground for criminals; in the Yuan dynasty Mongol troops buried countless Han corpses here; by the time of the Qing dynasty and the Republican revolution, the site had been soaked in countless blood."

"It's not that no one wants to develop it; it's that no one dares. This place is heavy with grudges and resentful spirits, the city's yin eye, an Asura hell." Pangzi rested his chin, puzzled, and asked me: "What do you think Yuan Yang chose this place for?"

I too felt doubtful and pondered carefully. In geomancy, a yin eye denotes a place where yin qi gathers, usually a potter's field or an ancient battlefield where people often died. The sun's yang qi can suppress and evaporate yin qi. A yin eye basically has a special location; when resentment lingers and stacks up, combined with unique terrain, it becomes a death ground.

"What could Yuan Yang be doing with such a place?" I racked my brains, and just then my master's feeble whisper on his deathbed surfaced in my mind: "Yin Mountain Guilt Knot."

"No, what the master meant was probably the Yin Mountain Ghost Realm, the Celestial Abode. Yuan Yang intends to use this place as a boundary, summoning myriad evil spirits to serve as his Asura troops." My limbs went numb, my whole body trembled, especially when I recalled that a month ago Yao Wenju casually mentioned that the Yao family, while purchasing Song‑dynasty cavalry terracotta warriors and weapons, my body had sunk into an icy chill.

What is he planning? To summon myriad evil spirits and forge an undead army for eternity? Would he not fear heavenly retribution? Moreover, the secret art of commanding the Yin Mountain troops of the Celestial Abode—hasn't it already vanished from the world? How could it still exist here?

"Hai Sheng… Hai Sheng, what's wrong with you?" Pangzi shoved the dazed me. I came to with a start, gasped, and asked Pangzi in astonishment: "You… what did you say?"

Just now, when I zoned out, I didn't catch a word of what Pangzi was saying. When I came to, Pangzi pulled me and said: "I've just thought of a method that might work against him."

"Eh, what method?" I asked blankly.

Pangzi stroked his chin, raised two fingers, and said: "Invite a servant?"

"Invite a servant?"

"Exactly, that's right, it's inviting a servant." Pangzi confirmed again: "I want to try inviting the Huaguang Ancestral Master to possess me; perhaps then we can stand against him."

"As for you." Pangzi slung an arm around my shoulder, but his tone was dismissive: "Your so‑called Ghost Immortal Great Emperor, Yin Mountain Marquis, etc., are all yin deities and cannot compare to the Huaguang Ancestral Master. Don't get involved, lest those yin deities you summon get struck down by the Ancestral Master before he even destroys the enemy."

"Huh… uh, okay, then the plan will be entirely up to you; I'll just help out from behind." Looking at Pangzi, I replied with a forced smile.

Pangzi burst into laughter: "That's more like it! Come, brothers, let's have a few more drinks. After we finish, we'll head to the battlefield—whatever bastard Yuan Yang is, killing him will be as easy as slaughtering a chicken." Pangzi laughed heartily, walked into the room to fetch the liquor.

After Pangzi left, I raised my head to gaze at the Huaguang portrait, my heart filled with an indescribable complex sorrow.

I know that Pangzi doesn't want me to die alongside him; all that talk about the Yin Mountain Marquis being inferior to the Huaguang Ancestral Master is just empty words. I fear that tomorrow, when we bring Murong Jia Jia to Return Spirit Mountain, only Pangzi will go.

"You go to die alone, letting me live—what's the point in that?"

Not long after, Pangzi strutted out of the room with several bottles of Maotai, bustling to set up the table, waving at me and calling: "Come, brothers, let's have a few drinks tonight."

"Sure, but these few bottles aren't enough—I'll go get more." I smiled, pretending not to know anything, while my heart bled. This was the first time the two of us brothers had been deceitful toward each other.

Returning to the room, I took out the few bottles of wine the guest had given me. At the same time I furtively opened the drawer, took out a small bottle of powder, and hid it in my fingernail.

This is the pseudo‑medicine Bamboo Leaf Green, a false art that uses Chinese herbs to mimic the effect of a thousand‑catty weight; ingesting a bit makes one fall into a deep sleep for three days and three nights. I don't know how to apply the weight‑drop effect to Bamboo Leaf Green, so I can only rely on these herbs to knock Pangzi out.

"Don't blame me—you can't bear to watch me go to die, and I can't bear to watch you die in my stead." I let out a long sigh inside, secured the powder in my fingernail, and walked out with the wine.

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